


that's what I like

by Teaotter



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Office Sex, Strap-Ons, community: game of cards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 05:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3884836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teaotter/pseuds/Teaotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony has a thing for offices, he's not gonna lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	that's what I like

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a porn battle at Game of Cards on LJ.

Tony has a thing for offices, he's not gonna lie. They're foreign territory for him, that strange world in which real adults do real work. Or so he's been told. But that implies that what Tony does isn't real work, which is A) ridiculous, and B) exactly the point of sex fantasies anyway.

Not that Pepper would ever do this in a real office, especially not in her actual CEO office with its glass windows and her personal assistant waiting just outside the door. Pepper being one of those real adults, she hadn't even paused before saying no. Tony'd begged, yes, actually begged to have sex there, offered to eat her out on any piece of furniture she cared to name, hell, he'd even attend a Board meeting on time afterward –-

But Pepper made the serious face and said no and that was that.

So Tony built his own playroom – slash – office in the mansion. It's a considerably less nice room, if he's being honest. The carpeting is industrial, for one, and the windows are covered with Venetian blinds, and there are three ugly gray metal filing cabinets along the wall. Not a computer in sight.

But it's Tony's sex fantasy, so if he wants a 1990s office, he can have one. Complete with a mimeograph machine and a leather executive chair and a giant wooden desk with a leather desk blotter. Who the hell uses a blotter these days? For its intended purpose, at least.

Tony's blotter, he's proud to note, smells like ink and sweat and sex. It's deliriously perfect.

He has a lot of time to enjoy that smell. Pepper has him bent face-down over the desk, his hands and feet tied to the corners, while she fucks him slowly with a strap-on. She's still wearing most of her suit, or she was the last time Tony could see her, and he wishes he'd thought to put a mirror in here. Even if it would've ruined the illusion, he'd still love to be able to see her.

“Are you still with me, Tony?” She's just a little breathless, maybe enjoying having him spread out under her like this just as much as he is -–

-– and all that comes out of him is noise. Tony can't even find it embarrassing any more, that Pepper can do this to him, that she can reduce him to the needy, greedy thing inside him that only wants more –-

“Because I could do this all day.”

Tony whines, the sound dragged out by the way she slows down as she says it. He's been hard for hours, days, however long she's had him here. He can feel every wrinkle in the papers crumpling under his chest, sweaty now and sticking to him. The edge of the desk is digging into his belly, but there's nothing against his leaking cock, his balls swinging free with each stroke Pepper takes into his body.

And it feels good, so good –-

“I could have you like this all the time.” She shifts slightly, her hands gripping harder at his hips, and her next thrust presses up hard –-

-– and again –-

-– and the pleasure just flares, white-hot heat running up and down Tony's spine. He can't help tugging against the restraints, aching to move with it, rub himself off against the desk, anything to take himself over the edge –-

Because Pepper is grinding into him, tiny shifts that send signals sparking up his nerves, lights prickling all along his body, colors changing temperature, and Tony loves this, loves the point when his brain doesn't know what to do with the pleasure anymore and just throws random sensations at him in desperation –-

“Tony. Come now.”

-– and everything staggers for a moment in high-def: the acrid leather smell and the sharp singular pains of Pepper's nails digging into his hip and the dull gleam of the filing cabinets and the shattering heat of his orgasm moving through him –-

The world around him goes warm and soft and loving for a while. Tony knows that Pepper's cleaning up; he hisses a little when she pulls out of him, more from habit that from actual soreness. Pain will just have to wait til the endorphins wear off.

Pepper laughs softly when she takes the restraints off his hands and he just stays flopped over the desk. “You comfy?”

“Mmm.” Tony shifts his weight a little, and the glow in his head dims. He slides down onto the floor til it comes back. “That's better.”

“Hmm.” Pepper settles herself onto the floor next to him, lifting his head from the scratchy carpet to her much softer lap.

“That's even better,” Tony says when she starts to smooth back his hair. His back is starting to ache, and his ass will be having harsh words with him for the rest of the day.

But he's just been well-fucked in a fake office by his very real girlfriend, who's still here and not running screaming away from that freaky Tony Stark. So, yeah. That's a win all around.


End file.
